


Losing Friends

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, M/M, Series: Sentinel in Love series #3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A friend of Jim's is murdered and Blair finds out what his Sentinel has been up to behind his back.<br/>This story is a sequel to You Light Up My Life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing Friends

## 

Losing Friends

by ET

Disclaimers: Sentinel and Guide are not mine. The whole concept belongs to Pet Fly Productions and Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended, even though, technically, it is. This is just for fun. Certainly not for profit.

Warnings: I don't do explicit sex scenes and there ain't no violence to bother delicate sensibilities.

Summary: A friend of Jim's is murdered and Blair finds out what his Sentinel has been up to behind his back.

Notes: This is an A/U series. As such... Morgan is my own character and I have a history for him that I've touched on in this series. Maybe someday I'll actually get to write it. Please don't use him without my permission. You'll regret it. He has a tendency to take over your mind. But what else can you expect from a telepath?

* * *

Blair Sandburg was a good looking young man of average height, with long, curly brown hair touched with auburn sun streaks and wide, dark blue eyes. In his late twenties, Blair was a graduate student in Cultural Anthropology at Ranier University in Cascade, Washington. He sat in the truck's passenger seat, his natural exuberance barely held in restraint by the seatbelt. Quite the opposite of the driver's more sedate demeanor. Detective Jim Ellison of the Major Crimes Division of the Cascade Police Department wore his dark brown hair very short. His light blue eyes twinkled as he laughed at something his partner was saying.

The young man was in the middle of telling his best friend an amusing story when the shrill ringing of a cell phone cut him off. He looked out the window at the passing scenery as Jim answered the phone.

"Ellison. Where?"

At that sharp question, Blair looked over at Jim. He sighed at the expression on Jim's face. Looked like they wouldn't be getting lunch, after all. It had to be trouble, Jim had gone into what Blair termed "cop mode."

This was supposed to be their day off. The two men had been working nonstop for a week trying to nab a car jacker rapist. They had finally caught him and were looking forward to a relaxing day off. But Blair knew that rest would have to be postponed. For James Ellison was not only a cop, he was also a Sentinel. One of an extremely rare breed of men and women with senses that were much stronger than the norm. A Sentinel was genetically programed to protect and serve his tribe. For Jim, that meant being a cop in Cascade, Washington.

Jim was hanging up the phone even as all this ran through Blair's mind. "Trouble?"

"Another body in the park," was the terse answer. Jim flipped on the lights and siren even as he pulled out into the noonday traffic.

A series of murders had captured the attention of Cascade's population. So far, two people, a man and a woman, had been murdered. While the methods of murder differed, both bodies been laid out in an almost ritualistic manner; legs straight, hands folded over their chests, wrists crossed and tied to keep them that way. Forensic evidence indicated that both victims had been killed elsewhere. Because the bodies had turned up in parks, half hidden beneath bushes, the killer had been dubbed "The Park Murderer" by the media.

The murders were the providence of the Cascade P.D.'s Homicide Department, who had only just asked the Major Crimes Unit to assist in the case yesterday morning. Naturally Captain Simon Banks gave the job to his best team; Detective James Ellison and his partner, Blair Sandburg.

When they pulled up at the park, it wasn't difficult to find the crime scene. Lots of cars with flashing lights and lots of people on official business, both uniformed and plain clothes showed where it was. Blair followed Jim across the glade to a short, stout, man with sad dog eyes and graying hair, wearing faded jeans and a plaid flannel shirt worn over a tee shirt. Jim introduced the casually dressed man to his partner as Kyle O'Connor, the homicide detective in charge of this particular series of murders. Blair was impressed. Even lowly Anthropology students had heard of Kyle O'Connor. His conviction record was nearly as impressive as Jim's.

"What've you got, O'Connor?" Jim asked, looking beyond him to the shrouded form laying not far off.

"Another woman, Ellison," O'Connor told them. "Preliminary evidence suggests she was placed here around dawn."

"Same MO as the others?"

"The same," O'Connor morosely confirmed.

"Can I get a look at her?"

"I think the ME is finished," O'Connor shrugged as he turned to lead them over to the body.

"Stay here, Chief," Jim ordered with a wave in Blair's direction.

Blair was willing to listen this time. The last thing he wanted was to look at a dead body. Instead he looked at much nicer scenery. Namely, the pretty redhead watching the proceedings from the sideline. At least he did until he noticed that something was wrong with his Sentinel.

"Jim?" he called out, heading immediately across the grounds. Jim was kneeling beside the body, his body held so ridged it had to hurt. "What's wrong, man?"

"I know her." Blair was surprised he could talk, his jaw was so tightly clenched. "Her name is Jeri Cartwright. She works -- worked at a nightclub. The KNIGHT RAMPANT."

O'Connor nodded, sympathy pouring off him. "I've heard of that place. Clean. Good music. Great food."

Blair's heart sank. While working undercover, Jim had met someone he was really attracted to but he wouldn't tell anyone who she was. Not even Blair or Simon Banks, Jim's friend and Captain could get a word out of him about her. Blair had been having fun trying to find out who she was. "Jim, she's not... "

"No, Chief, she's not," Jim reassured him, standing. Once on his feet, he closed his eyes and drew a deep breath before slowly releasing it. "She's the reason my plans for my day off were messed up, though. She called in yesterday morning and said she had an emergency and wouldn't be in for awhile."

"Do you know what the emergency was? Does she have any family?" O'Connor asked, frowning down at the body.

Jim said that he didn't know what the problem was. "She didn't say. I really didn't know her all that well. But I know where I can find out."

"If you could, I'd appreciate it, Ellison," O'Connor said, genuinely grateful. "This is the fastest we've ever gotten a positive ID on one of these bodies. If we can find out what she was up to last night, it might be the break we need."

The drive to The KNIGHT RAMPANT was silent. Sentinel and Guide, each deeply involved in their own thoughts. The parking lot was empty except for two cars -- one a fancy Ferrari, the other a more mundane, late model Ford. Jim pulled up by the Ferrari and turned off the motor. Neither man made a move to get out of the truck.

"You don't have to go with me, you know, Sandburg. You could just sit out here until I'm done."

"I want to go with you. This isn't easy on you, either, Jim."

"Thanks, Chief," Jim said, quietly but sincerely, before opening the door and sliding out.

Blair had been unimpressed with the outside of the building and so was pleasantly surprised when he walked in. He had never been to this nightclub although, like O'Connor, he'd heard about it. He followed Jim as the bigger man headed straight for the bar and the two men standing there, talking.

"Roe, Cary," Jim called out, catching their attention.

The man wearing a black tee shirt with the nightclub's logo turned, grinning widely. "Hey, Jim. What're you doing here, man?"

"It's too early, Jim. We're not closed yet," his companion said, with a wicked smile as he raised his mug of coffee in a jaunty salute to Jim. "Hell, we're not even open yet."

"I've got bad news, guys," Jim said, solemnly as he stopped close to them. "It's about Jeri. She's dead."

"Oh, God." The mug slid out of suddenly nerveless fingers. Hitting the floor, it splashed hot liquid all over the two mens pants, not that either man noticed.

"I made the identification." Jim somehow kept his impersonal tone as he explained what they knew to have happened while Blair looked anywhere but at the two men at the bar. "She was murdered."

Blair turned his attention back as a strangled voice said, "Oh, God. Morgan. We need to... "

"I'll do it. Where is he?"

"He's in the storage room, Jim. Taking inventory for tonight."

Jim turned to Blair, saying quietly, "Stay here. Okay."

"Sure, Jim," Blair said, as Jim walked into the back.

So far the man in the black tee shirt had said little, just staring at the wall behind the bar, tears streaming silently down his face. Blair wondered if there was something he should do other than just stand there. "Can I get you something? Maybe a drink?"

"No thanks... " He looked at Blair with a questioning glance.

"Oh, sorry. Blair Sandburg."

"I'm Cary Jolson," the man said, giving him a weary smile. He gestured to the silently crying man. "That's Roe -- Brian Roe, actually. He and Jeri were close..."

Suddenly there came an anguished shout, "NO!"

"Uh oh," Cary whispered, closing his eyes in pain. "He told Morgan."

At that point, Roe broke down completely, keeping Cary busy dealing with him. Blair felt more than a little lost, so he decided to find Jim. It wasn't too hard to find the storage room. The door was clearly marked. He threaded his way around stacks of boxes. He could hear murmurs of conversation and briefly wished for Sentinel hearing. As it was, he was glad he'd learned how to move quietly enough so as not to bother a Sentinel too much.

He rounded shelves of boxes containing snacks and came to a startled halt.

In the back of the storage room, Jim stood behind a man. Holding that man in his arms. Holding him in a way that hinted at a relationship way closer than mere friendship. Blair nearly gasped when he saw Jim gently kiss the man's temple. Slowly, he backed away and left them alone.

Jim came out a few minutes later, followed by the most unusual looking man Blair had ever seen. The man could have been a living, breathing statue of solid gold. The man was a couple of inches taller than Jim and maybe twenty pounds or so lighter. He moved with the fluid grace of a dancer.

"No," Blair thought, correcting his thought. "A cat. He literally moves like a cat."

Blair was so caught up in looking at the exotic stranger that he nearly missed Jim's introduction.

"...Morgan Chandler," Jim was saying when Blair hauled his attention back to earth.

"I wish I could say I was please to meet you, Mr. Sandburg." Morgan Chandler was looking at Blair with an odd expression in his eyes. Eyes that, Blair was further surprised to see, were smokey gold. "But the situation sucks."

"Hey, that's okay, man," Blair quickly reassured him. "This is quite a place you have here." Blair winced internally as he thought, "Oh, great, Sandburg. Dazzle him with your small talk when he's just lost a friend."

"I was planning on bringing you around here tonight, Chief," Jim said, in an apologetic tone. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

"That's okay, Jim," Blair reassured him, somewhat dispiritedly.

"Cary, can you get Roe home?" Morgan asked, looking with some concern at the still softly crying man. "Do you need help?"

"No, Morgan. I can do it," Cary replied, pulling the other man to his feet.

"I'm gonna kill him," Roe suddenly spoke up, his voice broken. "I'm gonna kill that little bastard."

"Roe." Blair jumped at the softly spoken reprimand. Morgan Chandler's voice had been soft, but had cut harder than Simon's yelling ever did. "We have no proof that Wills did this."

"Proof, hell, Morgan," Roe protested, blinking tearily at his boss. "He hit her."

Morgan sighed and rubbed his eyes with both hands before dropping his hands to his sides. "Yes, he did."

"When did this happen?" Jim asked, frowning at them.

Morgan looked at him as he told him that it happened over four months ago when Jeri broke up with the man. "I told him if he ever came near her again, I'd kill him."

Blair somehow knew that he meant it. For some reason, though, it didn't frighten him. Instead, it comforted him. Reminded him of the way Jim protected him. Confused, Blair missed several of Jim's questions and the answers. The next thing he knew, they were alone in the nightclub.

"Come on, Sandburg. Let's get out of here, so Morgan can close up."

"Just a minute, Jim." Morgan's voice was soft, but compelling. "I think I need to talk to Mr. Sandburg."

"About what?" Jim asked, frowning slightly. He obviously didn't like this.

"What he saw in the storage area."

"Hey, man. I didn't see anything. Honest."

Jim's head was swinging back and forth between his partner and Morgan Chandler. He stared at Blair when it hit him what Morgan was talking about. 

Blair reluctantly nodded to the unvoiced question. "Jim, I'm sorry, man, I know you said stay here, but Roe started to fall apart and Cary needed to take care of him and I felt useless, so I decided to find you and -- well -- I found you." Blair took a deep breath and asked the question that had been bothering him since he'd seen the scene in the storage room. "Why didn't you tell me, man?"

Jim winced at the accusatory tone.

"I wanted to, Chief," Jim said, with a sardonic grin. "I-- just didn't know how."

"The last thing either of us counted on, was falling in love," Morgan said, softly.

Jim looked at Morgan with such love that it nearly made Blair blush. "No, you didn't, did you, Sunshine?"

Blair blinked at the endearment. "Sunshine?"

"Because of my coloring," Morgan said, blushing slightly. "You see, Mr. Sandburg . . ."

"Blair. Call me Blair."

Morgan smiled at him as he corrected himself. "Blair, I don't care what sex a person is. All I care about is if that person is old enough to understand what love is and can love me in return. I have fallen for women as well as men. It just so happens that I mostly fall for men."

Blair nodded, understanding the theory, at least. "But why Jim? He's straight?"

"No, Chief, I'm not." Jim's admission further shocked Blair. "Not really."

"And as for why Jim -- he gave me back something I'd thought I'd lost forever. The ability to really love someone," Morgan said, softly, his eyes locked on Jim's face. There was a haunting quality to the look that took Blair's breath away. "He's promised that I won't be alone as long as he lives. He's my Sentinel."

"Your what? Jim, man, you told him?" Blair asked, both confused and appalled. He'd thought Jim would never tell anyone he was a Sentinel without discussing it with Blair first. "No, he told me, actually," Jim confessed, ruefully.

"I'm also a mind reader, Blair."

Jim groaned. "Did you have to tell him like that, Sunshine?"

"You had a better way?" Jim had to admit that he didn't.

Blair gaped at both men in complete astonishment. This was the man he'd been living and working with for two years? Jim Ellison? Detective James Ellison? Ex-military Ellison? The same man who laughed at Naomi's fascination with psychics? Had scoffed at Charlie Spring? "Oh, man. This is like SO out there."

"I suppose it is. Oh, and don't worry, Blair. I also understand about the relationship between Sentinel and -- Guide, is it?" Jim silently nodded and he continued, "We'll have to continue this another time, gentlemen. There are many things I need to do," Morgan said, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket.

* * *

At the station, Jim made his report to Simon. Simon told him that due to the fact that he was close to this victim, he was off the case. When he didn't object, Simon traded concerned looks with Blair. Simon sent them home, telling Jim to take the following day off. Jim couldn't seem to work up enough energy to get angry at being pulled off the case and that worried Blair. That, and finding out that Jim Ellison was gay, occupied his thoughts for the entire drive home.

Even after they got home, both men were quiet. Blair was too caught up in trying to make sense out of all he'd learned. His knowledge of his friend had just been turned upside down. Jim sat on the couch and flipped on the television, ran through a few channels then turned it off, tossing the remote to one side. Blair picked up a book he'd been intending to read only to put it back down after a few minutes. Nothing he'd just read had made an impression.

"You hungry, Jim?"

Jim looked at him blankly before answering. That told Blair that he'd been brooding. "Yeah, I guess so."

"How about soup and sandwiches?"

"Sounds good. Want some help?"

Blair agreed and they both headed for the kitchen. While Jim began warming up a pot of soup Blair had made earlier in the week, his Guide rummaged around pulling out a tomato, half a head of lettuce, cold cuts, cheese, mayonnaise and bread.

"I really was going to tell you." Jim's voice was so soft, Blair almost missed what he'd said.

"I know," Blair said, carefully slicing a tomato. Neither man looked at the other. "You know, it really doesn't matter to me who you chose to love. It's your life, man."

"We're friends, Chief. It's just that I was having trouble finding the way to tell you. I almost decided not to tell you at all. But I figured if you found out by accident it would be worse than if I just told you. You have a right to know that much about me," Jim sighed. "I should have said something before letting you move in."

"Why? Were you planning on making a pass at me?" Blair laughed at Jim's expression, feeling better than he had since finding out that Jim knew the latest victim of the so called "Park Murderer ." "Listen, Jim. Polite society dictates that we monitor what we say in deference to the feelings of the people around us when, in fact, it usually ends up causing more harm then good. I really feel that if we could be more open and honest about how we all feel and think, we might understand each other better."

Jim looked baffled as he stirred the warming soup. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"It means that I understand why you didn't tell me you were gay." Blair began to assemble the sandwiches as he spoke, "You're gay and you're a cop. That is so more than a little dangerous, man. I mean, most male cops are still having problems accepting female cops."

"That's true. So, you're okay with this?"

Blair took a few minutes to think about it. Time that Jim was certain froze solid and refused to move. "I think so, man. It'll take some getting used to. But he seems to love you..."

Jim nodded at Blair's questioning look. "He does. I really don't doubt that, Chief."

"That's good, man. I can't ever remember seeing you so happy before." They worked quietly for a few minutes before Blair's curiosity forced him to ask, "How long have you known... "

"Since my late teens, I guess," Jim sighed, knowing what he meant. "But I didn't do anything about it until after I got out of the army."

"Before or after you became a cop?" Blair asked before suddenly realizing how pushy that sounded. "Jim, man, I'm sorry... "

"It's okay, Chief. I don't mind answering your questions," Jim reassured him. "It was during my stint in vice. As the greenest detective, I was working hustler bait. I started looking around and I -- well, I kind of liked what I found. The rough stuff, S&M, B&D, weren't my scenes. Still aren't"

"That's good, man," Blair told him, feeling reassured that the Jim he knew wasn't totally different from what the grad student had thought he was. "Does Simon know? About any of this, I mean."

"I haven't told anyone before now, Chief." Blair felt unaccountably pleased to be the recipient of Jim's secrets. But Jim's next words made think of something else he was curious about. "Morgan may have picked up on it, but he hasn't said anything if he did."

Blair looked at him speculatively for a moment. "I thought you were a skeptic about psychic phenomena, man. I mean you didn't believe in Charlie Spring."

Jim nodded as he pulled down two bowls and two plates. Handing the plates to Blair he answered the hesitant question. "I am, I guess. I really don't believe in all that stuff. And when Morgan first told me, I sort of humored him. But you know, it's kind of hard not to believe when you've got somebody talking to you in your mind."

"What? You mean Morgan?" Blair asked, freezing with the knife midway between the sandwich he was cutting. "I thought you said he read minds."

"Yeah, I mean Morgan," Jim said, looking at Blair like he was crazy. He ladled soup into the bowls and carried them to the table. "He does read minds. He told you that, Chief."

"Oh, man," Blair moaned, his scientific curiosity aroused. He finished cutting the sandwiches and placed them on the plates before following his roommate to the table. "Jim, there is a world of difference between simply reading minds and actually being able to communicate mind to mind. There are tons of lore handed down, about people who know what others think. There is very little about people who can put their thoughts in other people's minds. There is almost nothing about people who can do both. And you're telling me Morgan Chandler can actually do both?"

"Yeah, Chief. I am." Jim moved over to the refrigerator and pulled out two brown bottles. Holding one up he shot his roommate a questioning glance. Blair nodded and Jim shut the door before popping the tops and bringing the bottles to the table. "I didn't know it was that rare. Sit. Eat."

Blair sat the plates on the table and pulled out his chair. He was almost too excited to sit. This was almost as good as finding an actual Sentinel. "This is incredible. You know, when I was doing research on Sentinels, there was a small postscript in Sir Richard Burton's monograph about Sentinels concerning a story someone had told him. On some island there was supposed to be this race of godlike beings. They would help people that needed it, using these powers they were supposed to have. Among their gifts was the ability to communicate mind to mind with anyone."

"Yeah?" Jim said, taking a bite of this sandwich. "What island were they from?"

"Burton couldn't find that out. He was told it was a legend from long ago. Most of it had been forgotten. A lot of these powers sound like what we now call psychic gifts. These people were supposed to be able to light a fire with a wave of the hand to help warm a house or cook food. They could heal the sick and wounded. They could kill, but for the most part, they abhorred killing. Oh, and here's what made Burton disbelieve the stories. Supposedly, they lived forever and were made of gold."

Jim froze, staring at his roommate, his sandwich halfway to his mouth. Blair suddenly realized what he'd said and stared, wide eyed, right back at Jim. Carefully, Jim laid his sandwich down and wiped excess mayonnaise off his hands.

"You don't think...?" Jim sounded a little shaky.

Blair shook his head. "It couldn't be. He's got to be -- what? Twenty-five?"

"I don't know. I never asked." Jim looked down at his half eaten lunch. Suddenly he wasn't so hungry anymore.

Just then, to both men's relief, the phone rang. Jim went to answer it. Blair fiddled with his sandwich as he halfway listened to his roommate on the telephone. Then the tension in Jim's voice caught his attention.

"When? Where does this guy live?" Turning, Blair saw Jim scribbling something onto the pad by the phone. "No, Cary, stay there. Let me handle this." Jim savagely punched the off button on the phone before grabbing up his jacket. "Come on, Chief. Looks like we're not going to get any rest today."

"Trouble?"

"Roe's going after Wills," Jim snarled heading for the door.

"Jeri's boyfriend?" Blair asked, hurrying after him.

"Jeri's ex," Jim amended. "Cary took Roe to his place and Roe got drunk. Cary thought he'd passed out so he went to the bathroom. While Cary was in there, Roe slipped out."

"How long ago?"

"About 15 minutes. It took Cary a few minutes to find out he was gone. We should be able to get to Wills place before Roe does."

Siren blaring and light flashing, the truck sped down the streets. Jim turned the noise and light off before they got to the address so as not to make Roe do anything foolish if he were already there. The address Cary had given Jim was on a moderately busy, four lane street. Jim parked across the street from the brownstone house. By the time Blair got around the truck, Jim was standing there with his head tilted in such a way that Blair knew he was listening.

"There's only one person inside," he finally said.

"Then we've probably beaten Roe here."

With a nod, Jim told Blair to stay put and began to cross the street. Blair watched Jim pause in front of the house then turn toward the space between the brownstone and the whitewashed house beside it. Pulling out his gun, Jim took a step forward and suddenly stopped moving. With a feeling of horror, Blair realized that the Sentinel had zoned on something. Blair was waiting impatiently for several cars to pass when he saw a man step from the shadows between the houses and aim a gun at Jim. It was like a nightmare. Jim zoned, helpless, about to be shot. Blair darted into the traffic, ignoring blaring horns and screeching tires as drivers tried to keep from hitting him. Jim needed him. He wasn't going to make it.

"Jim," he screamed just as the gunman shot.

Jim jerked as the panic in his Guides voice jolted him back into awareness. That jerk saved his life. Instead of hitting him in the center of his chest, the bullet slammed into him elsewhere. His own finger tightened on the trigger, even as he fell.

* * *

When Simon got the hospital, Blair was standing by the bed Jim was sitting on while the nurse wrapped the detective's upper arm and shoulder in gauze bandages. Simon waited until they were alone before doing more than greeting the two men. Simon asked how Jim was doing.

Blair answered before Jim could as he helped Jim pull the shirt over his good arm. "They've immobilized his shoulder so he can't use his arm much. Now you tell me, is that bad, or what?"

"Bad," Simon agreed with a grin at the grad student's fussing. He suspected Jim's grimace was due more to Blair's words than pain from his wound. "What happened?" 

Jim and Blair traded looks and Jim's jaw tightened. "It was my mistake, Simon. That guy, Wills, was Jeri's ex-boyfriend. Apparently, he'd hit her a few months ago and she'd broken it off."

"Jeri being Jeri Cartwright?" Simon asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "The Park Murderer's latest victim?"

"Yes, sir. When I went to The KNIGHT RAMPANT to tell them about Jeri, Roe, a friend of hers and a bouncer there, made threats against Wills." Jim went on to tell Simon that after he and Blair had arrived at home he had received a phone call from another friend who had told them that Roe had slipped out and was probably going after Wills. "He was drunk, Simon. I thought I could head him off before anyone got hurt. Wills must've panicked when we pulled up in front of his house. I don't know why."

"Did you pull up with lights and siren going?" Simon asked. Being told no, he sighed and shook his head. "We're searching the house now. Hopefully we'll find something that can explain all this."

Before Jim could answer, Blair said, "That reminds me, Jim. Morgan called. He managed to find Roe. They're back at Cary's now."

"Thanks, Chief. Any word on Wills, sir?"

"They'd just taken him to surgery when I got here. Your bullet hit him in the chest but the doctors don't think it's fatal. You zoned, didn't you, Jim?" Simon asked, dropping his voice. Jim's guilty look told him that he was right before the Detective spoke.

"Yes, sir. I could hear Wills moving about and then I heard the click of a gun's safety being removed. I was trying to see if I could place him in the house. If Blair hadn't yelled, Wills would've killed me," Jim said, with a grateful look for his partner. "My shooting Wills was an accident, Simon. I had my gun out and when Wills' bullet hit me, my finger tightened on the trigger, firing the gun."

"Well, that accident saved your life, man," Blair tartly informed him. "He was trying to kill you."

"I doubt there will be a problem with the shooting. It was clearly an accident, even if you discount the zone-out," Simon sighed. "Go home, Jim. You can come in tomorrow to give your statement, but I want you to go back home, afterwards. Not that you can do much with that arm the way it is. Even paperwork is going to be a problem."

"I can always get Sandburg to do it," Jim said with a teasing grin at his Guide.

"Yeah, Simon, he can... Hey!" Blair glared, indignantly, at Jim.

* * *

It was late when they got back to the loft. Blair had just barely gotten Jim settled on the couch, when there was a knock at the door. With a glower at Jim to stay put, Blair went to open it. With gleeful pleasure, he invited the man standing there inside.

"Well, that is quite a welcome," Morgan laughed, entering the apartment. "I didn't really expect that. Blair told me you'd been shot so I came over to see how you were doing," Morgan told him, sitting beside him on the couch. "And to find out what happened with Mr. Wills."

Blair took up a seat in the rooms only chair. "I've been wondering about your accent. It sounds almost British."

Morgan looked at him with a slight smile. "I was born in Britain, but I've been all over the world at one time or another. My accent reflects that fact. Jim tells me you've done some traveling, yourself."

"A little. Maybe we could compare notes, sometime?" A wide yawn split his words.

"Maybe you'd better get some sleep, Chief," Jim gently suggested. "You've got a class tomorrow, remember?"

"What about you, Jim?"

"I'm fine, Chief. I'm too wired to sleep right now. You go on to bed."

"I'll take care of him, Blair," Morgan promised.

With a wicked grin, Blair said he'd bet Morgan would. That earned him a pillow thrown by Jim for his pains. Laughing, he retreated to his room, only to poke his head out. "Try to keep it down, okay, man?"

"I'll keep you down, Sandburg," Jim mock threatened, brandishing another pillow as Morgan laughed.

* * *

The smell of bacon roused Blair from an exhausted slumber. He took a deep, appreciative breath. Bacon was the high cholesterol, high fat animal product that he loved too much to give up completely. His one real vice as far as food went. Quickly he got up and followed his nose.

"I didn't know we had bacon," he mentioned to the person standing by the stove.

"You didn't," Morgan told him, flipping the slices. "I ran out to the store this morning. Thought I'd fix breakfast and you didn't have everything I wanted."

"What're you fixing?"

"Apple pancakes. You have just enough time to hit the shower. If you hurry, that is."

"I'm hurrying," Blair swore, heading for the bathroom.

Jim still wasn't up when Blair came out of his bedroom for the second time. Concerned he asked if Morgan had checked on him.

"Yes, I did," Morgan told him, placing a stack of steaming pancakes before him. "He's still asleep."

"Man, it must be great to be a telepath," Blair grinned, pouring maple syrup on his pancakes.

Morgan looked at him a moment, making Blair a little concerned that he'd hurt the man's feelings. "It can be -- painful, as well. You can't help but find out what people think of you."

"Kind of like having enhanced hearing, I guess," Blair said, before chewing thoughtfully on a bite of pancake. "These are really good."

"Thank you."

Jim came downstairs just after they'd finished. He grumbled about missing breakfast, until Morgan told him there was enough left for him. After straightening up, Blair left for the university. Morgan had a few errands to run but he told Jim he'd be back shortly. Jim gave him a key so he could let himself back in. Thus, the Sentinel was alone in loft when Simon came by.

"Where's Sandburg?" Simon asked as Jim let him in.

"He had classes today. He should be back this afternoon. Are you trying to keep me from coming down to the station, Simon," Jim joked waving the captain to a seat.

Simon smiled at him. "Actually, Jim, I have good news. Wills broke down and confessed when we confronted him this morning. Believe it or not, it's kind of like that movie, 'Throw Mama From The Train' only it involves more people," Simon told him, disgust on his face. "Wills committed the first murder, another man did the second and a third man killed Jeri Cartwright. Wills recognized you from the Donovan Case, thought you were after him and panicked."

"Yeah, that did happen in that area, didn't it? I suppose the ritualistic layout was to throw off suspicion?"

"That's what Wills said," Simon nodded. 

"What I don't understand was why was Jeri a problem to Wills now? They'd broken up four months ago."

"She was going to get an injunction against him for harassment and abuse," was the surprising answer. "Wills new girlfriend was a friend of Ms. Cartwright's. When Ms. Cartwright found out he was abusing her, she talked the girl into going to the police. Then she filed her own complaint against him. We should've had this information sooner, but it got stalled somehow."

"Bureaucracy strikes again," Jim said, shaking his head at the waste.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know how things turned out," Simon said, getting to his feet and heading for the door. "I'd better get back. Some of us have work to do."

Jim walked his Captain to the door. He thanked him for coming by and updating him on the case. After Simon had left, Jim found himself unaccountably tired. Probably a reaction to the stress he'd been under. What with his crowded case load as well as Jeri's death and getting shot, it had been a full week. He lay down on the couch for a few minutes. Next thing he knew there was a warm hand on his forehead and a familiar scent in his nose.

"Mmmm, welcome back," he said, without opening his eyes. When he did, he saw Morgan's smiling down at him. The hand on his forehead turned into a caress of his cheek.

"Feeling all right?" Morgan asked, softly.

"Just a little tired," Jim said, sitting up. "Simon came by." Jim told Morgan about Wills confession. All the while that he spoke, he held Morgan close. Morgan played with the buttons of Jim's shirt. When Jim realized that Morgan's hand was on his thigh, he lost track of what he was saying. "Oh, yeah. That's what I want, Sunshine."

"We shouldn't," Morgan said, softly. His hand stroking between Jim's well muscled thighs belied his protest.

"Yes, we should. It's my shoulder that's hurt not my crotch," Jim countered, placing a hand over Morgan's to keep it there, as Morgan moved closer. "Make love to me, Morgan."

Morgan ran his tongue up the hollow of Jim's throat, tilting his head to one side as he followed the tendon up to the strong line of his throat to his jaw. He nibbled on the underside of Jim's jaw as Jim's free hand briefly came to a rest on Morgan's shoulder before pulling him closer still. Jim's head dropped back onto the couch cushions as he began to breath heavily. Pulling back, Morgan began to unbutton Jim's shirt.

Jim gasped as a mouth fastened on one of his nipples. He moaned a protest as that wet warmth was removed. He opened glazed blue eyes to look at his lover.

"Maybe we'd better take this upstairs," Morgan whispered, in an unconsciously seductive manner.

"Yeah," Jim agreed, barely able to talk. This man got to him in ways no one else ever had.

Standing, Morgan reached down and pulled Jim to his feet. Hand in hand, they climbed the stairs to Jim's bed. Once there, Jim turned and pulled Morgan into an embrace, giving in to the fierce urge to possess the other man's mouth. The kisses were hard and bruising and were returned just as strongly. Backing up, Jim held onto Morgan as he fell backwards onto the bed, Morgan keeping him from hurting his injured shoulder. Releasing him, Morgan moved to crouch over him, reaching down for the zipper to Jim's jeans.

* * *

Hours later, he lay on the bed watching his lover sleep. He still found it difficult to believe that this man could know so much about him and still want to be with him. There was still so much he didn't know Would the Sentinel want to stay when he found out everything? And what about the Guide? Morgan couldn't come between them. He would have to wait and see. Luckily, he had learned patience in his life. He thought he might need it now.

~Finis~


End file.
